Alix pulled herself into a sitting position on the sill and jumped down into the room. Silently congratulating herself on having found the open window, she inspected her surroundings, finding no sign of Rafe or Jervis. She suspected they were searching upstairs. There’d be hell to pay when she caught up with them, but why should men always have the last word just because they wanted it? For that matter, why couldn’t a man ever admit a woman might have something useful to offer?
In the case of her mother, Alix speculated it would require another woman’s eye to detect any clues left behind. Madeleine de Rabec had grown up with a great name, but no fortune. She had told Alix about her childhood: how things around her were always disappearing, paintings, furniture, jewelry, and trinkets. Since her grandmother forbade mention of the missing items, Madeleine had never known whether they had been sold to pay her father’s gambling debts or stolen by the servants. She’d learned to paste things of value behind the furniture with candle wax and pomade and, she confessed to Alix, even after she’d married the wealthy Comte de La Brou, she’d continued the habit.
Alix cast an eye over the grand salon, thinking that her mother’s boudoir would be the best place to start. But as she stepped forward, she was grabbed roughly from behind. A muscular arm held her tight, while strong fingers clamped around her mouth. Thrashing wildly she managed to kick her foot backwards, connecting solidly with a booted shin.
“Alix, you little hoyden, what the hell are youdoinghere?” From the moment he’d grabbed the intruder, Rafe knew exactly whom he had caught. He’d recognized the fragrance of his own expensive Bond Street soap, and the armful of uncorseted breasts only confirmed his knowledge. He spun her around to face him and his eyesnarrowed as he caught sight of her costume. “Are those Jervis’s clothes?”
Jervis, just reentering the grand salon, gasped in indignation. “Here now, that’s my best waistcoat!”
Rafe interrupted. “If I might repeat my earlier question Mademoiselle de Rabec de La Brou,what the hell are you doing here?”
Alix raised her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “I told you earlier I wanted to help.”
“And I told you to stay at the inn.”
“You are not my guardian, monsieur. You may not tell me when or where I have leave to go.”
“Obviously.”
“So are you going to stand here arguing with me until it’s too dark to search?”
Rafe stared at her sharply. A maid would never take that tone. He released her. She was right about the light. “Well, mademoiselle, where do you suggest we start?” He would definitely have more to say about her outrageous behavior when this misadventure was over.
Alix bit back a real smile, knowing she’d won, and quickly explained about her mother’s habit of hiding important items. “Have you checked her bedchamber yet? I think it would be the best place to start.”
Rafe gave a negative shake of his head and started to ask why she hadn’t told them this back at the inn. Then Alix started across the salon towards where the unconscious man was stowed.
Jervis quickly stepped in front of her. Pointing back across the room he said, “Through those doors to the gallery, then upstairs to your right. You and the captain can start there, and I’ll check the rooms down here.”
She nodded. “Be sure and run your hands behind all the furniture.” She glanced toward Rafe. “Well, are youcoming?”
“Hoyden,” he muttered under his breath and followed.
As they left the grand salon Rafe wondered whether to mention the unconscious man. No, he thought, watching her sashay up the stairs in Jervis’s britches, he’d see how the rest of this little adventure played out before he raised it with her. If she had lied, he’d catch her out. And if not, then why alarm her with the news that she was being pursued?
Alix moved quicklydown the gallery, peering into one room after another, trying to decide which bedchamber might have been her mother’s. When she opened the door to a pale yellow sitting room her heart leapt. Madeleine loved yellow. Crossing the thick carpet woven in pale yellow and blue, she caught the lingering fragrance of lilac, her mother’s scent. And then it was as if signs of her mother were everywhere, not just in the bottles of perfume and jars of powder and cream scattered over the dressing tables, but in the books by the nightstand, a trace of ribbon on the floor. Alix picked up an ivory-handled hairbrush, threaded with long dark strands and called softly, “Monsieur Harcrest, I’ve found her room.”
When Rafe entered the bedchamber, Alix turned her speculative gray eyes on him and said, “Run your hands down the backs of the furniture and see if you feel anything pasted there. I’ll check underneath.” Then she slid down next to the bed, an elegant confection crowned with hangings patterned in birds and flowers, and began running her hands along its base.
She has lovely legs, he thought distractedly as his eyes followed the undulating curve of calf to thigh protruding from under the bed. Then he shook himself mentally. Oh no, the little hoyden is attractive, but she is definitelynotwhat you need in your life. Lady Anne, he reminded himself, was waiting for him in England. He turned and beganvigorously searching the drawers of a delicate pear wood writing desk.
Alix poked her head out from under the bed. “Don’t bother, Mother would never be that obvious.”
Rafe had the distinct feeling that there was nothing obvious about the de Rabec de La Brou women. It also occurred to him that while he’d been in many ladies’ bedchambers, he’d never searched one before. He rifled through papers, noting scraps of poetry, a series of letters to a friend debating the nature of man, some bits of lace, but nothing that would tell him where Madeleine de La Brou might have gone. He pushed the drawer closed, feeling more like an intruder than he had when he’d climbed through the window. He was beginning to think it was all a ridiculous exercise, when he heard Alix’s triumphant cry.
“There’s something behind this painting! I just knew she’d leave something behind.”
Rafe saw that she was waving a small piece of stationery, its corners stained with wax. He walked over to Alix and read over her shoulder.
Dearest Tartine,
I pray that you will find this letter. Our departure has had to be conducted in such haste and secrecy, that I fear there was no time to speak with you. It has become far too dangerous for me to remain in France and so I leave tonight for England. My dear friend Lady Melbourne has offered to take me under her wing when I arrive and has invited me to stay with her in London until I might find a more permanent residence. Although it has been several months since I have had news of the Comte or my daughter, Alix, I foolishly hope that they will find me there.
Rafe barely took in the remainder of the letter detailing how Tartine, apparently a chambermaid of long standing, might obtain her wages. His head felt as if it had tumbled off and been tossed beneath a horse hooves, knocking all sense clear out of it. Alix’s story was true. Her mother had gone to London. And if she had made it safely there, then the Comtesse de La Brou was now living under the patronage of one of the most influential ladies of the ton.
He could only imagine the scandal when he arrived in London with Alix in tow. If Lady Melbourne truly was a boon companion of the Comtesse de La Brou, and there was no reason to doubt she was, they’d have him married before anyone could say “publish the banns.”
Alix’s voice intruded. “You see, Itoldyou there’d be something here that would help. And Itoldyou I could be of use. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get to London.”
